In remembrance of Orlando

ALEPH: Alliance for Jewish Renewal, expresses horror, shock and grief for the victims of Sunday’s shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida. We stand with all – LGBTQA or straight, people who identify with any faith or with none at all – whose hearts break for the victims, for their loved ones, for a community’s peace shattered, for hope and safety shaken, for rights and dignity trampled, and for political rhetoric arousing religious hatred in its wake. We fervently pray to heal the injured, and we re-dedicate our hearts and hands to building a world in which the twin scourges of violence and hatred end.

In grief and solidarity, we offer this liturgical poem by Rabbi David Evan Markus for use in vigils and prayer services. May the Source of Peace bring comfort to all who mourn, and inspire all to build an ever more just world, speedily and soon.

This is not the revelation we awaited
After weeks of step by sand-blind step
To that mountain owned by no one,
Senses scrambled, seeing thunder.

What was to be a loving night for
Thunder’s pulse and wisdom’s echo
Became at Pulse a staccato of shots
Because they loved who they loved.

What was to be the culmination of
Fifty days of courtship after bondage
Became blood-streaked caged hunt
Expelling fifty souls from earthly bond.

What was to be a party of plenty
Lifting the omer of bounty to heaven
Became the hellfire of one Omar
Inflicted on a war-weary world.

What was to be of these holy names –
Edward, Stanley, Amanda, Enrique,
Brenda, Jean, Kim and Angel –
Magnified and sanctified in memory?

What is to be of these holy names –
Omar, Ahmed, Amir and Mohammed,
Loyal citizens of this land of the free –
Bracing for wrongful blame or worse?

What is to be of this nation, this moment,
This generation beaten and bloodied into
Protest by tweet while guns blaze and
Medics race hope herself into surgery?

What is to be of this world, slammed by
Sloshing storm tides of hateful mistrust,
Carrying the words of a politics of rage
Hot enough to boil the sea and all of us?

This is not the revelation we awaited.
It comes not in frantic texts, gunfire or death.
It comes not in body bags and funerals.
It comes not in talk show recrimination.

Let Revelation hallow the ground of Pulse.
Let its wisdom resound forever, booming as
Thunder we will see in vigils and legislatures,
Scrambling us all back to our senses

So that finally we hasten the day when
God will bless us and keep us.
God will illuminate us and give us grace.
God will turn with us and give us, all, peace.

– Rabbi David Evan Markus

The revelation we awaited – The massacre at Pulse occurred on the Jewish festival of Shavuot, commemorating the revelation of Torah at Sinai. Owned by no one– Torah came in wilderness to signify that just as wilderness is ownerless and open, so must we be ownerless and open to receive wisdom anew (Numbers Rabbah 1:7). Seeing thunder – The scene at Sinai was so awesome that it scrambled human senses into synesthesia (Rashi Ex. 20:18). A loving night– In Jewish tradition, Shavuot is the spiritual wedding of God and the people, Sinai the chuppah (wedding canopy) and Torah the ketubah (wedding contract). Party of plenty– In agricultural days, Shavuot was festival of first fruits for joy (Deut. 16:11). Lifting the omer – At Shavuot, the omer (grain measure) was lifted to God in gratitude (Lev. 23:15). The hellfire of one Omar– The lone gunman Omar Mateen. Magnified and sanctified– The opening words of Mourners Kaddish. Fifty days of courtship after bondage– Tradition calls for counting the fifty days (Lev. 23:16) from Passover’s release from Egyptian bondage. God bless us– From the Priestly (Threefold, Kohenic) Blessing of this week’s Torah portion, Nasso (Num. 6:24-26).

At the end of our retreat, we were asked what would stay with us, and I offered a melody: the song “we shall overcome.”
our wonderful song leaders highlighted the most spiritual part: deep in my heart, I still believe that we shall overcome someday.
When I came home I listened to Pete Seeger. He told us that the children in Montgomery Alabama taught us the most important words: “we are not afraid …today.”
Let’s recall that we make our own choices in how to respond to tragedy. Pulling together as we did, and respecting each other in in our commitment to change the world- tikkun olam- is the greatest gift we can give.
We are not afraid … Today.